He smiles. It’s pleasant. Practiced.
“Of course you are.”
Vivian reappears like she never left.
She slips into the chair beside me again, seamless, elegant, her presence too intentional to be coincidence. This time, she’s holding my abandoned drink.
“You weren’t drinking it,” she says lightly, taking a sip without asking. Her eyes flick to Noah, then back to me. “Waste would be tragic.”
Something about that makes my skin prickle.
Noah’s gaze sharpens for half a second—just enough for me to notice—before he smooths it away.
“Vivian was just telling Scarlett stories,” he says. “She has such a vivid memory.”
Vivian smiles at him. Sweet. Slow.
“I remember things people prefer stay buried,” she replies.
My phone vibrates again.
She’s too close to you.
I glance down instinctively.
Vivian notices.
Her eyes drop to my phone.
Then—very deliberately—she places it face down on the table with one finger.
“Careful,” she echoes Noah’s earlier tone, but her smile is different now. Sharper. Curious. “People here don’t like secrets.”
My pulse spikes.
“I was just—” I start.
Vivian leans in, close enough that only I can hear her.
“You should know,” she murmurs, “Noah hates competition.”
I stare at her. “Competition?”
She tilts her head, studying me like a puzzle she’s already half solved.
“He always has,” she continues softly. “Especially from men who know him too well.”
My blood goes cold.
Before I can ask what she means, Vivian straightens and raises her voice just enough to be overheard.
“You must be exhausted, Scarlett,” she says warmly. “Island air does that. Noah, darling, you should take her upstairs. She looks… overwhelmed.”
Noah’s hand tightens instantly.
“Yes,” he says. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Vivian is watching me again. Watching too closely.
